


definitely, definitely, definitely dating

by Barbaara_Babaar



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Birdwatching, Kissing, M/M, from eddie's point of view, hopefully, making out or something, maybe cute, richie and his uncontrollable mouth, stan and eddie are already dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 23:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15673035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barbaara_Babaar/pseuds/Barbaara_Babaar
Summary: Under the canopy of trees, Stan's birdwatching trip turns into something more.In other words, Stan and Eddie make out in the forest.





	definitely, definitely, definitely dating

**Author's Note:**

> they're like, 16 or 17 so this could be considered "underage" but they don't bang in the forest or anything

“What’s that one, Stan? The tiny, fast one over there?” 

“That’s a rufous hummingbird.  _ Selasphorus Rufus. _ It’s an easy name to remember because it has ‘rufus’ in its latin name, too.” 

“Cool. I don’t know how you know all these. I can’t even remember Richie’s name sometimes.” All I really want is to hear his voice. Hearing him talk about something he’s so enthusiastic about only makes it better. 

When I look back at him, he’s glued to his binoculars again, head tilted back. Shiny, maple syrup-colored brown curls fall back onto his shoulders. His hair has gotten longer than he usually allows it to grow, which only urges me to run my fingers through it more. It’s not like he’d mind. 

Mike is walking a couple feet ahead of us, talking quietly to Richie, who’s talking so loud I’m surprised Stan isn’t hissing at him (yelling would disrupt the birds) to shut up. When he gets too riled up, Mike tightens his arm around his shoulders and smacks his arm gently. 

It’s not like they’re dating or anything–Mike is straight and Richie is too much for anyone–but it wouldn’t be too bad if they did. Mike can get Richie to go from 100 to 60 in a couple minutes, and isn’t afraid to touch him when it helps. That’s more than anyone else can do for him. 

Stan and I, however, are definitely, definitely, definitely dating. Not that anyone else knows about it, of course. We don’t show it when we’re around our friends, and barely when we’re alone together either. Neither of us like germs, so we don’t kiss as often as Beverly and Ben do, and the sexual aspect of our relationship is basically a straight line. 

It’s not that I want it to be, or that he wants it to be, or that both of us are in a unanimous pact to save ourselves until marriage. We just haven’t gotten around to talking about it. Whether that’s because he gets embarrassed talking about sex or I don’t know that much about it, I’m not sure. All I know is that I feel myself craving being close to him more and more. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Stan?” 

He doesn’t answer. Sometimes, he gets so engrossed in his bird-watching that he accidentally tunes out the rest of the world. I rub his shoulder and ask again. 

“Oh,” he says, dazed. “ _ Turdus migratorius,  _ in the tree. I would show it to you, but it flew away.” 

“ _ Turdus migatorius?  _ Like ‘turd?’ What kind of a name is that? _ ” _

“ _ Turdus mig _ ra _ torius.  _ The american robin.” He smiles at me even though he’s still off in his own world somewhere. 

Somehow, the two boys stomping clumsily ahead of us managed to get away from us. They can’t have gone far, but they’re bound to not notice we’re not following them for at least ten minutes. I want to take advantage of it. 

“Stan?” 

“Hm?” 

“ _ Stan? _ ” 

Finally, the binoculars fall down to his chest, and he looks up at me. His eyes are wide and his lips are shiny and pink–probably due to the lipgloss Bev put on him–and I want him so bad. Not his body, or maybe his body; I don’t know. I just really want to hold him. 

“I brushed my teeth before we went out, and I have mouthwash in my bag.” 

For a second he looks confused. 

Then he gets it. 

“Come over here then.” 

I get the same “butterflies-in-my-stomach” feeling as when I first kissed him. My whole body lights up like a match and all the places his timid hands touch me melt; my neck, my cheek, my shoulder. It makes my head spin. 

As his lips part against mine, I hear the sound of his notebook drop onto the forest floor next to us. My stomach drops right along with it. He tastes so neutral, so weirdly clean even though we’re probably exchanging enormous amounts of bacteria. 

_ Stop it, Eddie, you idiot. Stop thinking about bacteria. Bacteria. Bacteria. Bacteria. BACTERIA.  _

It’s almost as if he can feel my panic, because I feel him reach for the bag hanging off my shoulder–the one I carry around instead of that stupid fanny pack. He takes out my travel-sized bottle of mouthwash and lets me pull away. His lips only  _ kind of _ follow mine forward. 

Biting my lip, I look up at him in thanks and try not to notice how tired he looks. Like he’s disappointed, or fed-up, or something. I push away my shame for the sake of oral hygiene. It’ll come back soon anyway.

He says, while rubbing my shoulder, “we’ve gotta get past this sometime, right?” 

“Right.” 

“I get it though.” 

“I know.” 

Stan, eyes glowing, brushes my hair back behind my ears with his delicate, magnetic fingers. “Can you kiss me again?” he whispers. He looks so fucking mischievous. Absolutely delicious. 

Maybe he’s a bit weirded out by me basically climbing all over him, but I can’t bring myself to care. I love him too much to care. So I kiss him again and again and again, more tenderly each time even as our breaths thicken. 

The next time he reaches for my bag, he takes a detour down my thigh, where he knows I’m the most ticklish, and traces a slow circle there.  _ “ _ Stop, you bastard,” I hiss into his mouth. 

“Stop what?” 

“Babe.” I don’t know if I’m the fed-up one or if I’m really, really in love with him. I think I’ll go with the second option. “I hate that. Stop.” 

He stops even though I’m not serious, and settles for looping his arms casually around my neck instead. Letting me back him into a tree, more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. 

How I’m managing to  _ not  _ get an embarrassing boner right now is far beyond me. We’re so damn close to each other and he’s so warm. I keep my cool while he scratches my back affectionately with his perfectly manicured nails, as he whispers into my mouth that I’m making him dizzy, even when he puts his hand on my chest confidently and touches my heart through my skin. 

I lose it, however, when I make the fatal mistake of squeezing the right spot on his tense shoulders, and he moans. He moans.  _ Oh my god. _

I don’t even know if he can tell I’m on the wrong track to getting an awkward erection in the middle of our birdwatching trip. Hopefully not. I’m sure we’d both prefer getting each other off in the safety and comfort of his room. 

_ Stop it, Eddie, you idiot. Thinking of anything else besides Stan. Think of bacteria. Bacteria. Bacteria.  _

Shit. Not even bacteria can distract me. Thankfully, something else snaps me out of it before I can even unhook my fingers from Stan’s hair. 

“ _ You guys!  _ Gross! And right as I was about to make a joke about how you should stop making out down here, too. It doesn’t work when you really are. Give a guy a warning next time, would ‘ya? Maybe carry around a ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign-” 

Richie, though pretty and adorable in a dumb kind of way, can be quite the boner-killer. I almost thank him for the stream of words that sprint out of his mouth like vomit. 

Once he starts talking, it’s hard for him to stop. Sometimes his lack of control in whether or not he shuts up makes him panic, which makes him talk more, and then Bill snaps his fingers in his face and says “Richie, shut up.” With a lot more stutter, of course. “Beep beep” never feels appropriate when he’s unable to put on the brakes. 

It  _ is  _ appropriate, though, right now. 

“Beep beep, Richie,” Stan says to a very Mike-less Richie. He’s long since detached from my embrace, so I let him pick up his things and begin to get immersed in his birds again. 

A couple minutes later, Mike comes back with one hand full of trail mix and the other full of Beverly. We fall back into our same pattern. They talk ahead of us so they won’t disturb Stan and I stay with Stan so I won’t lose the warm feeling in my chest. 

There are more birds now than there were before we fell into each other under the trees, but he doesn’t even notice the downy woodpecker perched on the branch above us. He’s too busy looking at me. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully you enjoyed this even though it was short-ish and possibly also boring


End file.
